Sira is a narrow-shouldered young woman with quick hands and the restless balance of someone accustomed to walking over loose shale. Her face is sun-browned across the nose, while the skin beneath her eyes remains unusually pale, giving her a permanently wakeful look. Her hair is thick, dark brown, and cut unevenly at the jaw because she trims it herself with a sickle. Tiny dried leaves are often caught in it. She moves with delicate concentration when gathering plants, barely disturbing a stem, yet becomes startlingly blunt and clumsy when someone compliments her. Her fingers are permanently stained green, rust-red, and violet from sap and crushed petals. The unexpected contradiction is her smile, which is broad, bright, and almost mischievous despite the otherwise solemn impression she leaves behind.